Tess's Room

A lovely tempest, not easily understood, but worth the effort. Sort of like dark bitter chocolate surrounding the sweetest cherry...

Love Thyself

It ain't just for perverts anymore.

Masturbation is enjoying more acceptance in our society than it ever has before here in America. Think of it, in the last decade we’ve had the topic addressed on television shows (Seinfeld) and in movies (There’s Something About Mary). We accept without snickering that every woman owns a vibrator and that every man jerks off at least once a day. (Right?)

We have the Jolly Christian Religion to thank for our repression of masturbation. In its zeal to restrict and control everything sexual, to make it shameful and embarrassing, to control the feelings and behaviors of as many people as possible, the Church successfully made jerking off taboo.

When my first husband and I were dating, at the cherry-sweet ages of 17 (me) and 19 (him), we were like most young lovers, fucking like rabbits. One night, I simply could not do it again, but the poor man was in need.

“I’ve got an idea,” he whispered. “Why don’t I take care of it, and you just keep kissing me and rubbing against me and stuff?”

Sounded like fun, so that’s what we did. He jerked off and I just kept kissing him and rubbing against him and stuff. And as he lay basking in his after-glow, he confessed to me something that made me burst out in incredulous laughter. He said “That’s the first time I ever…you know. I never did that before.”

I could not imagine why he thought I needed to believe he’d never jacked off before! I couldn’t even imagine why he thought I would believe it.

Today, I don’t believe I could ever be satisfied with a man who didn’t have enough libido to arouse himself to self-pleasure at least a few times a week. And bonus points if he’s thinking of me while he’s doing it!